


Queen Rock Hogwarts

by FlyAway_33



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter RPF, Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Brian is basically hermione, Gen, Gryffindor, Hogwarts, House Rivalries, Hufflepuff, John is like Ron, Magic, Muggles, Platonic Relationships, Ravenclaw, Roger is a cinnamon roll, Roger is harry, Slytherin, everyone is in a different house, freddie is helpful, may be out of character, mentions of child abuse, mentions of domestic violence, muggle relations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2020-05-13 08:13:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19247293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyAway_33/pseuds/FlyAway_33
Summary: Queen Hogwarts AU! Roger is new to the magical world. Follow him as he meets new people and experiences new things. How can a small group of boys make an impact on the whole school?





	1. I Want to Break Free

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and is in no way affiliated with any recognizable content. 
> 
> This takes place during Harry Potter's parents' time at Hogwarts. Roger and John are in the same year as them while Freddie and Brian are a year older.

Roger was a small boy. He was at least a head shorter than all his peers and couldn’t keep up well in sports, simply just being too small and vulnerable compared to other boys his age. Though he was athletic and energetic, his size inhibited him more than he cared to think about. He knew he was different, small— weak, even, but he also knew he had abilities other kids didn’t have. First of all, he was incredibly musically talented, and second, he was a wizard.  
He knew about magic but his father forbid it. Roger, his mother, and his sister were punished any time they mentioned or exhibited magic. Roger’s mother had hidden her abilities for years because she had fallen in love with a muggle and his father never knew until one day when Roger was seven, he began to exhibit magical abilities having broken his bedroom window just with a scream during a temper tantrum. Another time when he was upset with his sister because she lost one of his toy cars, he accidentally made a dish of water fly off the kitchen counter and spill over her head. His father witnessed both inexplicable events, and in a moment of bravery, his mother told him the truth: that she and both their children were magical. That was the first time Roger saw his father hit his mother, and the first time his father had grabbed him by the collar and called him a freak, forbidding him to acknowledge his abilities. His little sister, who at that point still hadn’t discovered her abilities was spared from the violence, and Roger had vowed then that, should she really be magical too, he would keep her safe.  
Thus began the lying game. Winnie kept her children safe by teaching them how to control their abilities. They never spoke of magic because even the smallest hint of it would send their father into a violent rage. Roger and Clare’s abilities were ignored and discouraged. They were taught to pretend they weren’t special, that they weren’t different. They pretended that magic didn’t exist, because every time one of them lost their temper or were frightened and a little magic would slip out, they could be sure to be put in their place by their father. They pretended until Roger’s eleventh birthday when their father wasn’t home, an owl flew in through their open kitchen window and dropped a heavy letter on the table, immediately swooping over their heads and out the window, gone as quick as it had appeared. It was addressed to Mister Roger Taylor in flawless script and a wax seal with an unfamiliar crest stamped into it kept the envelope shut.

A month and five days later at Kings Cross was a hard time. Roger’s mother Winnie, who desperately created a facade that she was sending the Roger to a boarding school for troubled kids, had snuck both children out of the house early that morning and had apparated them both to London so that she could take them shopping in Diagon Alley for the supplies Roger needed for the real school she was sending him off to: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Apparating was a shock in and of itself, and Diagon Alley was a culture shock for the frightened siblings and they were glued to each others’ sides all day as Winnie led them through the streets filled with odd sights, sounds, and characters. His mother and sister cried when they sent Roger, clad in his neatest, yet still too big, maroon sweater and khaki uniform pants off onto the looming Scarlett train at King’s Cross, but Winnie was relieved that her boy could go somewhere he could learn to be himself without being punished for it. 

“Hello, darling. This seat taken?” 

Roger sat alone in one of the train’s compartments facing the empty bench across from him. He was both frightened and excited all the same, and was bound and determined to make friends, so when the scrawny boy with dark tresses, buck teeth, and olive skin poked his head through the door of the compartment Roger gave his bravest smile and welcomed the boy in. The boy traipsed into the compartment revealing more of himself to Roger. He was a slight boy dressed in an emerald green polo and neat, black uniform pants. A rather large, silver embroidered serpent glittered menacingly from his left breast pocket and what appeared to be a small ruby glinted as its eye.

“Hi, I’m Roger,” he silently cursed his high, breathy voice as he stuck his hand out. The boy gave him a toothy grin and shook it once. 

“Freddie.” He answered confidently. “I’m a second year Slytherin. Are you ready to be sorted? Oh, I just can’t wait to see everyone join their houses!” He exclaimed, plopping down onto the seat across from Roger. “It’s such an exciting event, finding out where you’ll be for the next seven years! Oh, you must be excited darling, aren’t you?”

“I’m not sure, I dunno much about any of this.” Roger nervously looked down at his sneakers, a ratty old pair of chucks. His feet didn’t even touch the floor of the compartment due to his small size, and he felt sub-par sitting across from Freddie’s immaculate outfit. “Just found out I was going to be allowed to come here a month ago, actually.”

“What do you mean you just found out? Are your parents muggles?” Freddie looked utterly confused as his eyes searched the tiny blond boy before him.

“What’s a muggle?”

“They must be,” Freddie sighed, his face falling into a brooding expression, “Its a non-magic person.”

“Oh, no, my mother is a witch, apparently. Dad is a muggle, then, I guess.”

“Apparently?”

“Yeah. We never really talked about it but she has… abilities… like my sister and me.”

“Ah. I see.” Freddie gave him a strange look for a moment as though he were reading him like a book before his expression changed in an instant and the toothy, mischievous grin returned. “You’re a half-blood, then. Lovely. I’m pure blood, my parents are descended from a prestigious line of ancient Indian Parsi wizarding families.”

“Oh.” Roger hummed, unsure of what any of that meant. Was Freddie better than him because of his pure-blood heritage? That’s what it sounded like, but Roger wasn’t offended, he just wanted to figure things out before he made a fool of himself.  
“Hey, Freddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you— uh, could you tell me about this, this school? I don’t know anything about it. I’m going into all this completely blind.” He felt tears welling in his eyes and a lump forming in his throat, but he forced it all back, determined to preserve his pride and protect himself in this strange new culture. He was terrified, but he knew he had to stay strong, he’d always had to hide his emotions at home for risk of accidentally triggering his magic, and that never ended well. Though he struggled to conceal his anger or frustration whenever those emotions welled up, he was excellent at hiding his fear and sadness. As a small, young boy who had only turned eleven five days ago he certainly had the steely emotional composure of a much older boy. Conceal, don’t feel. 

“Of course, darling.” Freddie’s kind, warm eyes softened and raked over the small boy, a combination of pity and hopefulness shining through them. He’d noticed the brief emotion in Roger’s expression but he chose not to comment directly and instead Freddie spoke as though he knew everything he was feeling. Those brown eyes looked like they were peering into Roger’s soul. As he began to explain the school, he proceeded in a chronological order, explaining to the small boy what he would see as he arrived at the school, what the houses were, and what to expect in his first classes.  
The two boys spent the rest of the train ride in deep conversation as Freddie explained everything he could bring to mind about the magical school as Roger sat listening, starry-eyed and asking a plethora of questions. They’d been engrossed in conversation for at least an hour when a lanky boy with a wild halo of dark pin curls surrounding his head unceremoniously threw open the compartment door and glided in. He was dressed in clean, dark black robes and a neat blue and bronze tie: not a thing about his outfit wasn’t perfectly in place. 

“Hello. I’m Brian,” he stuck his hand out for Roger to shake as he peered down his nose at the child, “Second year Ravenclaw. And you are?”

“Roger. First year.” He took his hand and gave it a firm shake, hoping his feigned confidence would mask how overwhelmed he felt inside. 

“Well, lovely to meet you, mate. Looking forward to seeing where you end up.” Brian then turned to Freddie. “Oi, you need to put on your robes, we’re nearly there.” Then back to Roger. “You too, Roger, but keep your sweater underneath, you’ll be sailing across the lake. Tradition for first years. Can’t have you freezing your arse off if we can avoid it, yeah?”

“Oh, okay. Th-thanks for the heads up.” Roger’s eyes had gone wide and he felt panic swelling in his chest. He couldn’t swim.

“Ah yes, the boats.” Freddie mused. “Brian and I met on the train last year and sailed over together. Nasty weather we had. He fell in and caught pneumonia, imagine that.”

“What?!” Roger squeaked before recomposing himself. “I mean… How did that happen?”

“Oh we were messing around,” Freddie laughed, examining his fingernails in an aloof manner. “My fault, really. He was trying to stop me from putting my head in the lake. It was a dare from another boy who ended up in Slytherin with me.”

Brian rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You won’t fall in, just don’t be an idiot and don’t interfere with other idiots. Go on now, get dressed.” Brian turned on his heel and waved his hand in a passive goodbye as he glided out the door. 

“Bossy, isn’t he, Rog?” Freddie asked with a mischievous smile as he dug through his satchel for his robes. 

“Mhm.” Roger hummed in affirmation as he got his own robes out. Where Freddie’s had the crest of what he’d told Roger was Slytherin House’s, Roger’s simply had the Hogwarts crest. He wondered where he would end up, seeing as he couldn’t label himself with any of the attributes Freddie had described for the houses when he was explaining Hogwarts. He guessed the sorting hat would just have to choose at random. 

Roger stood among the other first years with his arms wrapped around himself, trembling from a combination of excitement and fear as he watched the largest man he’d ever seen in his life direct the children into a fleet of small row boats. The man was intimidating with his booming voice but he wasn’t what had him so worked up. It was his fear of drowning that struck fear into his heart as he was shepherded toward the dark, murky lake. He desperately looked around for anyone to talk to so that he could distract himself, and his eyes landed on a lanky, slouching boy who was standing by himself close by.  
The boy had reddish brown hair that grew past his ears and wore a focused yet nervous look on his face. Roger was very social and wasted no time stepping over to him with a cocky smile to mask his fear.

“What a welcome, eh?” He chuckled, desperate to start a conversation, but his voice shook ever so slightly. ‘Damn it, Roger.’ he thought to himself, clenching his jaw as he waited for a response. 

“Yeah, quite lovely,” replied the boy sarcastically with a very obviously northern accent. “Though I’d much rather join the general population in those charmed buggies.  
Roger glanced over to where Freddie had split off to where large carriages seemed to be pulled along by nothing. It sent a shiver down his spine, but the prospect of being in a self propelling carriage seemed much less frightening than the idea of being thrown overboard and drowning, so he nodded in agreement.

“The name’s Roger.” he grumbled as he tightened his arms around himself nervously. 

“John.” The other boy hummed. “You alright there, Roger?”

The boys had been directed into the last row boat with a few other first years, but there were no oars to be seen. Roger gulped as his trembling worsened, but he kept his expression stony, his jaw set, as they stepped on. “I’m— I’m fine, John.”

John’s expression softened. “No need to be scared, mate.” He said in a low voice so others wouldn’t hear. “Its just magic.”

“I’m not scared.”

“Yes you are. If it makes you feel better, I’m scared too.”

Roger raised his eyebrows and glanced over at John in question.

“I’m scared I won’t make friends.”

“You’ve just made one. I’m scared of falling in and drowning.”

John smiled at roger’s sentiment. “You won’t. We lucked out with the weather. Just sit, we’ll be there soon.”

Their boat began to glide forward completely unaided and Roger held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. He peeked one eye open as cool air blew through his hair in an almost soothing manner, and he relaxed as he realized how steady the boat felt beneath him. His confidence grew and he leaned his face into the wind, his eyes heavy, savoring the sweet earthy smell of the air, so unlike the sea breeze back home. He felt strangely comforted by the new scent and had a strong sense of hope in his heart. This was a new beginning.

The whirlwind of emotions Roger felt when he stepped foot in Hogwarts for the first time nearly knocked him off his feet. After years of hiding his magic while his father literally fought tooth and nail to keep him ‘normal’, he’d felt like he was finally home. He was finally free.  
A head shorter than all the other first years, he got lost in the sea of excited children on the way up to the front of the great hall. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of the immense ceiling that seemed to vanish into the stars of the clear night sky, lost in the awe and wonder of all these new magical sights and sounds. There was uproarious chatter of housemates reuniting after a summer apart, and what appeared to be ghosts floating around the Great Hall greeting students as the first years were led to the front. He was overwhelmed, taking it all in as sorting began and he neglected to pay attention until a familiar name was called and his new friend left his side.

“John Deacon” rang the shrill witch’s voice from beside the stool where the sorting hat sat in waiting. 

A fold in the hat seemed to open up in a smile as the hat settled on John’s head. “Hufflepuff!” It shouted in a clear, booming voice. 

Great. All his friends were in different houses. What was he supposed to hope for? Roger scanned the hall in search for Freddie and Brian as John shuffled toward the Hufflepuff table which was adorned with cheery yellow banners with equally as cheery students welcoming him in. He spotted Brian’s curly mop at the Ravenclaw table swathed in a sea of blue, but had a harder time finding Freddie as the Slytherin table was farther away and Freddie had a significantly less noticeable silhouette. He looked hard at the far table, narrowing his eyes in attempt to focus them enough to pick out his friend as he silently cursed his poor eyesight. He noticed a shape at the end of the table that resembled Freddie. He and another figure who appeared to be a young girl with auburn hair were greeting first years warmly as they joined the house.  
Roger was soon lost in thought once more as his gaze traveled over the students and professors surrounding him. Names were called, children sorted, and the cloud of first years soon dwindled down to just Roger and a few other boys. The one beside him was the closest Roger could see to being almost as short as him, which was a bit of a comfort. He had a curtain of straight, black hair hiding most of his features from the side, and he had been eerily quiet and still during the sorting. Roger glanced at him curiously, as the boy seemed to not care at all as his name was called “Severus Snape” and he was sorted into Slytherin before the hat was even fully on his head. He seemed to have known where he was going and had a near painful air of indifference. 

Then Roger remembered that S was right before T, and that meant— 

“Roger Taylor.” He was next. 

His mind went blank as he set his jaw in determination and straightened to his full height, head held high. With as much feigned confidence as he could muster, he marched up to the stool and hopped up onto it as the witch lowered the hat onto his head, his feet swinging above the floor in false merriness as he waited for his answer. The hat must’ve been thinking, of course. Roger didn’t know where he belonged either, he couldn’t blame it. But then— 

“Gryffindor!” It shouted with grandeur. The table draped in scarlet erupted with cheers and Roger jumped down off the stool as a small smile played at his lips. What had Freddie called this house? The courageous ones? His smile grew as he approached the table. He was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: So I'm an idiot and forgot the month of August was a thing, so I edited like two sentences to correct that. oops.


	2. As it Began

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger and his new friends explore the grounds of Hogwarts as he learns more about house rivalries.

Since they had arrived at school on a Thursday that year, classes were postponed starting until the following Monday, giving students Friday, Saturday, and Sunday to settle in. Roger was very grateful for being able to settle in and get used to the new environment before he was expected to sit and behave for learning. Roger was getting antsy just seeing the Gryffindor tower of the castle, and he wanted to see more, do more. He was more than ready to discover more about his new home, this new world.  
Friday morning saw Roger tracking John down at breakfast, eager to do something other than sit around by himself. John had been eating breakfast with other first years at the Hufflepuff table, listening in to their conversations without contributing much as he nibbled at the toast he’d chosen from the spread. After Roger finished his bacon and eggs and parted from his new Gryffindor friends he made his way through the Great Hall and nonchalantly plopped down at the Hufflepuff table across from John. John’s eyes widened in surprise at Roger’s boldness as he settled in, resting his elbows on the table and his chin in his hand, a calm smile playing at his lips despite the excitement gleaming in his eyes.

“Mornin’, John,” he began, ignoring the stares from the other Hufflepuffs. “You doing anything today?”

“N-no, Rog, I uh—“

“Great! What do you say we explore a bit?”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Roger. Didn’t you hear all the cautions professor Dumbledore listed before the feast last night?” 

“Nope.” Roger said, popping the ‘p’. “I was too busy watching those.” He gestured up to two ghosts floating by the top of the doorway, lost in conversation. “Anyway, what could go wrong?”

John gave him an incredulous look. “Everything, Roger. Everything could go wrong.” 

Roger didn’t believe him of course, as he’d grown up in the muggle world where most if not all dangers could be avoided with a bit of street smarts and confidence. “Well, I know a Slytherin who might be able to show us around. We gotta learn this place sometime, right? I wanna know what there is to do around here and I’d like to look around before classes start anyway, I don’t want to be that fool who shows up late because he got lost.”

“Well you do have a point, I suppose.” John agreed, frowning slightly. “Okay, fine. But I’ll reserve my right to bail at any time.”

“Deal.” Roger grabbed Johns hand and shook it hard once in agreement. “Let’s go find Freddie!”

They received glares from the other houses as they approached the farthest table. Roger scanned the row looking for his friend and spotted him near where he’d seen him sitting the night before, the same auburn-haired girl across from him along with another boy with pale skin and sandy brown hair sitting beside him.   
As they came nearer Roger got a better look at the girl: she was pretty in a sense, but her piercing green eyes and narrow jaw gave her a near snake-like appearance. Her eyes seemed to never leave Freddie as the three of them conversed. The boy was watching him too, and something about the way his eyes bore into Freddie as though he were a piece of meat made Roger’s stomach churn.   
Though beside him john was fidgeting nervously, Roger puffed up his chest with a deep breath of preparation and approached the group of older students.

“G’mornin, Fred.” He greeted in a nonchalant tone, silently dreading if Freddie cared to remember him from yesterday.

“Roger! My dear boy!” Yep. He remembered, and his eyes met Roger’s with sincerity. “Oh, darlings this is my new friend!” Freddie exclaimed, addressing the two Slytherins he was sitting with. “Met him on the train yesterday. Rog, this is Mary and Paul, both in my year and house. Paul here is the boy I told you who dared me to stick my head in the lake.” Freddie rolled his eyes as a mischievous grin appeared on Paul’s face along with an odd gleam in his eyes. 

“Didn’t force ya, Fred.” Paul sneered. 

“Whatever, darling.” Freddie chuckled and then turned his attention to John. “Who’s your friend, Rog?”

“Ah yes, this is John, he’s in Hufflepuff.” Roger grabbed his arm and pulled him forward slightly so he could properly greet the Slytherins. 

“Hello,” he sighed with a forced smile. “Lovely to meet you all.” 

“You as well.” Freddie smiled. “What are the two of you up to today?”

“Well,” Roger began, plopping down at the table beside Freddie and earning a few glares from the surrounding Slytherins including Paul. Mary and Freddie remained indifferent. “I was thinking we could get a little show around by someone who isn’t a prefect?” He chucked nervously as he glanced around, hoping a prefect hadn’t heard him. The brief tour their Head Boy had given on the way up to Gryffindor Tower had been less than exciting and he hadn’t paid a lick of attention once they’d covered the moving stair cases, as he’d been too busy admiring the ancient castle and watching the moving paintings in awe. He wanted to know what mischief there was to get into.

Freddie seemed to catch his drift and his own mischievous grin appeared. “Oh, I would be honored, darling! Mary, Paul, would either of you like to tag along?”

“No thanks.” Mary answered in a sickeningly sweet voice. “Told Narcissa and Bella I’d meet them today. I’ll see you at dinner?”

“Of course, Paul?”

“I’ll meet you at dinner as well. I have some things to get done today.” Paul stood and nodded to the first years. “Have fun, don’t get yourselves killed.”

Roger heard John gulp from where he stood behind him and he rolled his eyes, thinking Paul was joking. 

Freddie clapped his hands together once and jumped up from his seat in excitement. “Right, there’s nothing fun in here for now, let’s go out to the grounds and I’ll show you around!”

Freddie led the boys through the castle to the courtyard and then out onto the grounds. He was sure to point out every landmark and popular hangout spot they passed including the greenhouses where Herbology was held and the quidditch pitch where first years would have flying lessons and quidditch games were held each weekend. When Roger asked what quidditch was Freddie and John both launched into an intense play by play description of a typical quidditch game.  
They walked down to the Game Keeper’s garden and Freddie pointed out the man’s hut, set sharply contrasted against the background of the Forbidden Forest with smoke billowing lazily from the chimney. Roger was still unsure wether to be scared of the large man from the previous night. Hagrid was his name, according to the Slytherin, and he was apparently very friendly and warm. 

The boys continued on their way down the grounds, walking a few meters from the forest’s edge as Freddie told them all about the mystical creatures who hid within, and that when they were to get in steep trouble a trip to the forest to do work with Hagrid was an occasional punishment, when they noticed some sort of altercation between two students several meters away. There were several boys gathered on a small crop of boulders that sat at the edge of the Black Lake, a popular gathering spot for many students. As Roger, Freddie, and John approached the scene they were able to pick out more details.   
A tall boy with sleek, almost white blond hair and piercing green eyes was standing atop one of the boulders, and was sporting green and silver with a ring of four other sneering cronies backing him. Below in a heap on the ground lay a lone younger, smaller boy with grayish brown hair and prominent buck teeth, whom Roger recognized as a fellow first year Gryffindor. The Gryffindor boy’s eyes were wide with fear and he stuttered as he spoke to the Slytherin.

“I—I’m waiting on my friends, Lucius I— We agreed to meet here, I didn’t know—”

“Are you daft? I told you to leave, rat!” The boy called Lucius drew his want and sent an electric yellow bolt of light toward the boy who then cried out and scrambled to avoid it, remaining trapped in a clumsy heap of his own limbs on the ground.

Roger felt the heat rising to his face in anger as the blond boy continued to taunt the much smaller one. Freddie hissed to he and John that Lucius was a fourth year and practically owned the younger half of the house, even striking fear in some of the older students as well. Many of his housemates wholeheartedly believed that Lucius and his band of cronies were destined to become legitimate followers of He Who Must Not be Named, and rumors flew about the group already delving into the dark arts at the tender age of fourteen. Apparently, they were actively trying to recruit younger students into their clique as well, and Freddie was concerned for a few of his Slytherin friends.

“You’re a disgrace to your house, Pettigrew,” Lucius continued to the boy, “I’m surprised you have found any friends there at all. That is unless they haven’t yet discovered what a bloody coward you are.” He pointed his wand at the boy once more but froze when a new voice sounded from his right flank. 

“Oi!” Roger shouted as he successfully escaped Freddie’s cautionary grip on his shoulder, jogging closer to the boulders to make his presence known. “Let him up. Who do you think you are?” He glared defiantly up at the offending Slytherin and held himself at his full height. Though he knew he was small, he knew how to give the illusion that he was fearsome. 

Lucius and the other Slytherins simply started laughing, much to Roger’s chagrin. “Who am I?” he hissed, “I am Lucius Malfoy, and with the flick of my wrist I could have you holed up in the hospital wing for a month. Who do you think you are?”

Though Roger was growing more terrified, he held his ground. “You think it’s funny to harass younger students, do you? You think you’re so big and bad? Get over yourself, Malfoy.”

“Levicorpus!” 

Roger couldn’t grasp what was happening until he was dangling upside down, several feet above the ground. Through the surprise and unwelcome dizziness he got his bearings and located Malfoy where he still stood, wand pointing at Roger with absolute focus on his narrow face. With a flourish of his wand Roger was sent flying through the air and dropped with a splash far off the shore of the lake. He didn’t even have the chance to say a word before he was plunged deep into the water. 

On the shore, Freddie and John stood in shock as the Slytherins laughed. The small boy had taken his chance to run off while Lucius’s attention was elsewhere. 

“Come on, Rog. Where are you?” Freddie whispered more to himself than to anyone else, eyes trained on the spot in the lake where the younger boy had disappeared. Only ripples and bubbles disturbed the surface. 

Several moments passed before John grabbed Freddie’s sleeve, a realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. “Fred,” he whimpered, “I don’t think he can swim.” 

“What?” Freddie rounded on John, panic in his eyes.  
“He said he was scared of drowning last night when we got on the boat. Freddie, what if he can’t swim?!”

Freddie whirled around to face the gang of older boys, catching them as they tried to retreat, pure unadulterated anger in his tone. “Get. Him. Out.” He spat vehemently. 

“I uh—” confusion painted itself on Lucius’s face as he looked from Freddie to the lake. “I’m only a fourth year I don’t think I can—” his magic wasn’t strong enough to retrieve the boy from how far he’d been thrown.

“GET HIM OUT!”

“I can’t!” He looked around in panic before he seemed to come to a decision, and he ran, the rest of his posse hot on his heels.

“Bloody hell!” Freddie cried, “The cowards. John we have to help him!”

“But— but there are things in the lake, Fred.”

“To hell with it our friend is in there!” Freddie ignored John’s cautions as he sprinted down into the water, stripping his robes off as he went so that he only had on his weekend clothes beneath. His heart sunk, realizing Roger still had his robes on, they must be weighing him down. Even if he could swim they would make it near impossible for a boy his size to get very far.

In a split second surge of bravery John followed behind Freddie, abandoning his robes as well. Freddie was right. This was their friend and they had to do whatever they could to help him. The boys frantically swam out to where they’d seen Roger disappear. He was no where to be seen, and Freddie took a deep breath before diving beneath the surface, determined to locate his friend.

His heart sank when he saw him beneath the water, drifting, unconscious and sinking fast. Freddie dove after him in a surge of adrenalin and took hold of his wrist, pulling him up to his chest to get proper hold as he kicked desperately toward the surface. Once they broke into the cool September air John didn’t hesitate to grab on to one of Roger’s arms and help Freddie kick toward the shore. They hauled him up onto the grass and both blanked, looking up at each other in panic. Now what? They were only eleven and twelve years old, they didn’t have the magical skills let alone knowledge difficult muggle CPR skills to resuscitate him, as they were both pureblood who’d grown up in the magical world. Freddie burst into panicked tears as he began to cry out for help, John following seconds after, wailing desperately. 

Freddie was flooded with despair as he gazed down at his new friend, noticing that his lips were gaining a blue tint and that he looked lifeless. It wasn’t fair: the boy Roger had been defending had fled, the boys who caused this had fled, and here were two innocent bystanders with limited skills and experience left to pick up the pieces. What were they to do?

“Hey, what’s going on, Fred?” It was Brian. He was running over after having heard the commotion from where he’d been reading under a nearby tree. He felt sick when he noticed Roger on the ground. “What happened?!”

“He— they— he fell in the lake, he’s drowned! Oh Brian I don't know what to do!” Freddie wailed, grabbing the front of Brian’s robes in desperation.

“Drowned?” Brian paused for a moment, thinking hard, wracking his mind for any bit of magic he could conjure up to help the small boy. He then tried the only thing to come to mind. He pointed his wand at Roger’s mouth and “Anapneo!” a ribbon of water flowed out from between the blond’s blue lips and splashed onto the grass beside his head. It was far more water than any of them expected. “Spell to clear the airway,” Brian explained, breathless himself from relief. “Wizarding First Aid.”

“He’s still not breathing,” John pointed out, his hand on Roger’s shoulder as he tried to shake him awake. “Come on, mate. You’re alright.” But he was unresponsive.

“Uh…” Brian paused for a moment and gave a shrug of desperation, wand still pointing at Roger, but this time at his chest. “Rennervate.”

Roger’s blue eyes snapped open and he drew in a sharp breath, causing him to cough violently. He rolled onto his side, arms wrapping around himself as he struggled for air. Freddie and John cried out in relief and were immediately all over him trying to get him to sit up and talk to them, but Brian stopped them, telling them to give him a moment to reorient himself. 

“Bloody hell.” Roger croaked after at least a solid minute of nothing but gasping and coughing, color slowly returning to his face.

“Alright there, mate?” Brian asked, casually, giving Roger a gentle pat on the back.

“When’d you get here?” Roger groaned, peeking up at the Ravenclaw.

“He saved your life, Rog.” Freddie said softly.

“Well,” Brian began, “They pulled you out, I just knew the first aid spells. Do you remember what happened?

Roger nodded and squeezed his eyes shut as he focused on steadying his breathing. 

“Maybe we should get you to the hospital wing,” John suggested. “Get Madam Pomfrey to check you out, make sure you’re okay.”

“‘M alright.” Roger responded, slowly sitting up and blinking hard in attempt to clear the lights popping in his darkened vision. Truthfully, he agreed that he should probably go, but he didn’t want Lucius to be right about having him holed up in the hospital wing. 

“Then darling, you must go to Professor Slughorn,” Freddie began with a dramatic flourish of his hand. “He’s our head of house and will see to it that those boys are punished. They almost killed you!”

“No! I’m not bloody tattling on them. I’ll be fine, let’s just forget it.”

“Well, Rog, at the very least you should learn to swim.” John suggested with a small smirk, earning a glare from the disgruntled blond boy as the others quietly snickered despite the seriousness. 

“Well, you’re not wrong.” Roger finally admitted as he pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his forehead on them in exhausted defeat. 

Once Roger finally caught his breath Brian helped haul the small boy to his feet, holding him steady as he tried to blink away the head rush he experienced each time he moved. Brian was too tall, so Freddie and John each slipped one of Roger’s arms over their shoulders to help support him. Even as they carried most of his weight, the trek across the Hogwarts grounds was exhausting, but ever hardheaded Roger refused to rest until they reached the entry hall. There, the boys lowered him to the floor and let him rest against the wall for several minutes, concern etched in all of their faces as they surveyed their new friend.   
He looked bad. Really bad. His face was pale and he was covered in a thin sheen of cold sweat as his small body trembled with every movement. It went against every one of Brian’s instincts to not take Roger right up to the hospital wing, but he knew the younger boy did not want to go, and Freddie and John were struggling as it was without any pushback from the boy.   
They continued on their way after a short while and Roger seemed to be recovering his strength a bit. The boys helped him dutifully up the many staircases and held on to him when they changed unexpectedly. However when they reached the final flight that led up to the Gryffindor common room all three hesitated.

“It’s okay I’m ready,” Roger sighed, thinking they were hesitating for him.

“Er, it’s not that, mate,” John began nervously, “Its just, we’re not in your house and none of our houses will see too kindly to three outsiders lurking around up there. 

“Oh come off it,” Roger rolled his eyes in disbelief. “No one in Gryffindor would hurt someone without cause.”

“No, but still not a good idea for us to go up there.” Brian ran a hand over his face and sighed in frustration. “Not just because of your housemates but because of ours as well. We’ll be questioned. It’s just better not to. It’s enough that we hang around each other.”

“Wow.” Roger sighed, slightly hurt that his friends weren’t seeing him all the way through due to some shitty social rules. “Well, uh, I guess I’ll see you all later.” He parted from Freddie and John and gave one last parting glance to the three grimaces that momentarily watched him ascend the flight before splitting off to go their separate ways.  
Roger struggled. Without the support of his friends both physically and mentally gravity felt like it was weighing down on him more than usual. His feet felt like they were made of led and his body was screaming for rest and his lungs begged for air. All he wanted to do was lay down, but he couldn’t give up. It wasn’t even lunch time and he felt as though he could sleep until tomorrow, but with a quick glance up the stairs he could just see the glinting frame of the portrait of the Fat Lady. So close.   
As Roger rested against the railing a group of four girls, all differing heights but each with long tresses of dark, straight hair skipped past him chattering excitedly in what he recognized as French, as he’d learned a bit of the language in school. He watched them go for a moment but then put his head down in shame. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this. Weak. But then he felt a tap on his shoulder and looked up to see that the smallest girl had come back, her, what appeared to be sisters, hanging back and observing cautiously.

“Are you alright?” She asked sweetly in a thick accent. Something about her dark but deep, kind eyes made Roger relax a bit and a small smile played at the corners of his mouth as he looked at her.

“Je vais bien. Had a long day.” He gave her his best attempt at a dazzling smile through his exhaustion. 

She giggled. “It’s only eleven du matin! What happened? You’re all wet.”

Roger looked down at his clothes, having forgotten that he was indeed still dripping on the floor. “Oh, ah, decided to go for a swim in the lake.”

The girl frowned, seeing that something wasn’t right, and she gently placed a hand on his arm and slowly began to guide him up the stairs. “Let’s get you to the common room.” She stated, glancing up to her sisters. “Allez, j'y serai bien tôt.” [go, I will be there soon.] The three older girls turned on their heels and hurried up the stairs as not to interfere with their little sister’s antics. “Je suis Dominique,” the girl chirped as she slowly began guiding Roger up the stairs. “I am a first year.”

“I’m Roger, I’m a first year, too.” He found himself leaning into her support, as something about this girl made him feel safe. “Say, Dominique. Those are your older sisters, yeah? Have they told you why all the houses seem to hate each other?”  
“Oh,” she began, a little taken aback by his question, “Well, I suppose it has to do with competition, with the house cup and quidditch and what not. Just natural to be enemies rather than friends.” 

“Thats a load of bollocks.” He spat. “Sorry, I know you’re just the messenger, it’s just frustrating.”

“Oh, I agree. My good friend is in Slytherin.” 

“Absolute bollocks.”

Dominique was able to get Roger to the common room and thankfully he made it up to his dormitory on his own. He immediately stripped his wet clothes and tossed on his bathrobe before collapsing onto the soft mattress, exhaustion getting the better of him before his head even hit the pillow. It was a rough start to his time at Hogwarts, but he was determined to make something of it. He couldn’t help but dream of doing something to improve house relations. Scenes flashed through his dreams of everyone being friends and houses meaning nothing more than the rooms you laid your head down in at night. Friendly rivalries didn’t have to turn to hatred the way they seemingly had here at Hogwarts, and he wondered: What the hell we fighting for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case you missed it the boy Lucius is bullying before Roger steps in is Peter Pettigrew and the friends Peter was saying he was meeting were James, Sirius, and Remus. They'll make an appearance in future chapters, I promise!
> 
> Please drop some kudos if you like it and comment with any feedback at all! I'm having a blast writing this and I love to hear what people think, complimentary or constructive :)


	3. Flash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger discovers that absent-mindedness can be a danger in the magical world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly just explaining things and introducing an important thing about Roger that will matter later on. I'm sorry it takes me so long to update, I only write when I'm motivated and I've been focused on school lately. Also, I edited chapter 1 a tiny bit because I guess I forgot about the month of August when I first wrote it. I only edited like two or three sentences, nothing that changes anything important to the plot. 
> 
> Enjoy, lovies!

Though not many had witnessed the event, soon the whole school knew about Roger’s near drowning and it became a defining moment for him and his time at Hogwarts. Where his housemates saw him as brave for facing Malfoy, Slytherins saw him as a wimp for not knowing how to swim or defend himself. Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws saw him as a defenseless victim to another of Lucius’s boredom-fueled attacks on mudbloods. 

Roger didn’t consider himself a victim, or even brave for that matter. He saw himself as unlucky: simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time, trying to be a decent human being by standing up for someone just to have it blow up in his face. He knew he wouldn’t have become a target to Malfoy or his gang if he’d never come across Malfoy’s confrontation with Peter Pettigrew.

Peter Pettigrew was another story, another thing Roger considered unlucky, as he now seemingly had a little follower. Since that day at the lake Peter worshiped the ground Roger walked on, and though Roger continued to tell him it wasn’t a big deal and that he didn’t owe him anything, Peter continued to offer to do things for him and followed him around like a lost puppy whenever his other friends weren’t occupying him with their marauding.

Roger liked Peter’s friends though: James Potter, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin, all in the same house and year as Roger and Peter. He found them to be quite different than the small, mousey boy however, they were all different from each other as well.   
James and Sirius were the most alike, the two Roger liked the most and gravitated to. They were loud, boisterous, and mischievous. He knew they were constantly up to something, scheming together about God only knew what. They had the same dynamic that he and Freddie were to develop over those first few months at Hogwarts.  
Remus was much more subdued than any of the other three. He was quiet and observant, yet seemed to play a mastermind role in the group’s escapades. Roger couldn’t quite figure him out, but he was nice enough so he decided he was alright and ignored the mysterious uneasy feeling he got around him. 

Peter, James, Sirius, and Remus made up the rest of the Gryffindor first years boy’s dormitory, and Roger was relieved that his roommates were so agreeable. He’d been afraid that they wouldn’t get along, but they were great and he was overjoyed despite the occasional annoyance that was Peter. 

Dominique, the girl who had stopped to help Roger on the stairs, was another saving grace for him. After that day he’d kept an eye out for her and would always offer to work with her in classes or do homework together as an excuse to talk to her. She was sweet, but had an air of wit and sarcasm that drew Roger in. He was fascinated with her, and Freddie often teased that he fancied her, much to Roger’s chagrin and denial. “I just want to get to know her, is all. She’s really cool!” He would argue to Freddie’s teasing.  
It was in classes where Roger really started to come out of his shell and grow more familiar with his own abilities. He was intellectually extremely bright and though he was generally new to the wizarding world, he didn't have to work hard at all. He breezed through classes and completed assignments with little to no difficulty, the only challenge for him was sitting still and focusing long enough to finish them. 

Magic became easy for him quite quickly and soon his favorite classes became charms and transfiguration. It was a blast learning how to manipulate objects in ways he never thought possible before. He’d never had the opportunity to do anything other than suppress his abilities, so exploring what he was capable of was a dream come true. 

Lucky for him the Gryffindors had a few classes with the Hufflepuffs, so he got to see not only his Gryffindor friends but John as well in transfiguration and flying. John and him soon learned that they were pretty good at flying. John was quick and sneaky while Roger was fearless in the air, and Madame Hooch, the flying coach encouraged them both to try out for their house teams when they reached second year. 

Flying was a wonderful, life changing experience for Roger. The free feeling of the wind in his hair, the absence of anything keeping him on the ground, the control he had over the broom: these were all feelings he’d never had before, and he soon fell in love with everything about it. He’d found his magical calling. 

On the ground however, though extremely bright Roger was also often fidgety and distracted. He could be found bouncing his leg, tapping his fingers, bobbing his head to an unheard beat, or messing with his books and parchment in any way to keep his hands busy and his nervous system stimulated. He was never sitting totally still and his professors and classmates soon learned that fidgeting was just what Roger needed in order to keep himself calm and present in class. So long as it wasn't a wand the boy was brandishing everyone could generally ignore him, as he posed no threat to anyone else. 

That was until one day when professor McGonagall had her first-year transfiguration class pull their wands out for a lesson. 

One thing Roger had figured out about McGonagall’s class was that even though he held the upmost respect for her and genuinely enjoyed learning how to transfigure things, he could not for the life of him listen for more than five minutes during a lecture, ten if he was in top form. He wanted to get to the fun stuff and the constant stream aural information eventually would turn into background noise as his busy brain found something more stimulating like folding pieces of parchment into paper footballs, tearing pages of his notebook into fringe, or writing down seemingly random phrases of thoughts as he doodled absentmindedly.

McGonagall was having the students work on simple wand gestures without any spells and was standing up by the large rolling chalkboard as she drew figures and wrote out important notes for her students to copy. Luckily this was one of the classes Roger and John had together so the boys sat beside each other near the front (Roger was quite interested in transfiguration but blamed wanting to sit up front on his poor eyesight). The minute the professor had instructed them to have their wands out, Roger was tuned in, excited at the prospect of maybe being allowed to actually do something.

“We’ll be transfiguring rats into goblets. You need to you the proper wand technique and incantation together or you could end up with something not quite so desirable…” McGonagall continued to drone on as Roger’s mind went off on a tangent, bright, curious images filled his head of all the possibilities. What if he accidentally turned his rat into a tiger? What if he did it on purpose? Could he do it on purpose? A tiger was a lot cooler albeit more complicated than a simple goblet, maybe he could try a cat? No, no, not a cat, professor McGonagall might be offended by that. He’d better just do as he was told, he knew better than to mess around with magic, and he didn’t need to earn himself a one way ticket back to Truro. Yeah, he’d better stick to a goblet. Or maybe he could just… 

“Mr. Taylor!” Roger jumped at the shrill voice that cut through his inner monologue and forced his eyes to refocus on the witch who stood before his front row desk, her arms crossed over her chest and her lips pressed into a thin line as she towered over him. “Forgive me for waking your daydreaming, dear boy, but this is quite difficult magic and you may find you’ll benefit from paying attention.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He responded in a small voice as he straightened up and shook the daring images out of his head. 

Roger was actually able to engage himself in the lesson for a few minutes, as McGonagall was now showing the class how to handle their wand for this spell, and was having them mirror her movements. He swished his wand through the air in the same basic shape the professor was demonstrating and he felt confident that he had it down, and next was the pronunciation. 

“Watch me now,” McGonagall tapped her wand at the fat, gray rat that was sitting atop a book on her desk looking quite confused. “One, two, three, vera verto.” The rat seemed to immediately stretch into the shape of a goblet, its fur and limbs disappearing into a shiny, golden surface that sparkled impeccably. The students ooh’d and ahh’d at the magic and listened eagerly for the okay to try it themselves.  
Professor McGonagall reversed her spell with “finite incantatum” and demonstrated a second time before releasing the responsibility to the students.

Roger’s wide eyes turned to the smaller rat that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere on his desk, and then exchanged a shocked look with John. The boy smirked and raised his eyebrows at the blond. 

“What’s the matter, Rog?”

“it— it just—” He was stunned. How could something just appear out of thin air?

“Come on now, you just saw one turn into a cup! You’d better get used to magic.” John laughed before turning to his rat. “One, two, three, vera verto.” The rat twitched awkwardly and stretched up before flopping back into its regular form.

“You nearly had it, Mr. Deacon. Keep trying.” McGonagall encouraged as she swept down the aisle of desks, keeping an eye on her students’ progress.

John screwed up his face in focus, and Roger could practically see the cogs turning in his mind as he thought through the details of the spell. “One, two, three, vera verto.” This time, the rat stuttered a bit before stretching up as the professor’s had and developed into a lovely drinking goblet.

“Very good.” McGonagall hummed as John puffed his chest out in pride. “Let me see you give it a try, Mr. Taylor.”

Roger turned to his rat, wide eyed and pale with nerves. He stole another quick glance at McGonagall who was staring at him stoically, a look that chilled him to the core even though he knew she was generally kind. He wanted to impress her.  
“One, two, three, vera verto.” He copied the wand movements he’d seen her and John do to a T and watched in shock as his rat twitched and seemingly melted into jelly before finally stretching up into the form of a shiny, perfect goblet.  
“I did it!” the blond exclaimed, his face lighting up with a glowing smile as he turned to McGonagall for approval.

“Great work, boys.” The professor commented, a twitch of a smile visible for a moment before she moved down the aisle to other students.

“I did it, John! I turned a rat into a bloody drinking goblet! What the hell! Magic is awesome.”

“Yeah it is, isn’t it?” John laughed, overjoyed to see his new friend so taken by what he, a pureblood who grew up in a family of witches and wizards, thought to be simple magic. “If this wows you you’re going to have a great time here, I’m sure.” John continued before picking up his quill to record some notes on his technique. 

Beside him, Roger smiled madly to himself and scooped the goblet into his hands, turning it over and running his fingers over the smooth surface. It felt warm, as though the living energy from the rat still lingered. He inspected it closely, at a loss for how this was possible. Science had been his favorite subject in muggle school and he was baffled, unsure of where the living cells might have gone, or were they simply transformed into the goblet? But it felt like metal, albeit warm, and metal didn’t have cells. So, accepting the wonder of it all he set the cup down with a shrug and leafed through his transfiguration book, skimming for an answer before he was distracted by a loud squawk from someone else’s rat. 

Roger and John were both done their class work, and John had started on the homework while Roger let his gaze travel the room, taking in the sights and sounds of the busy wizarding classroom. Many students were accidentally making odd shapes and objects as they practiced their spells, and occasionally a squeal or a startling popping sound would break through the din of the class’s chatter. The room was busy, bright, there was so much to take in. Roger had been at Hogwarts for months now and still couldn’t get over how beautiful every part of the castle was or how absolutely curious it all was. He wanted to absorb everything, learn everything, be everything in this new, magical world. Though frightening and unfamiliar, he was learning more and more everyday that this magnificent castle, this bright, exciting new world was his home. It was where he was meant to be.

With his work finished early and not having the motivation to start his homework like his Hufflepuff friend, Roger’s hands automatically started fidgeting as he gazed around the room at all the ensuing chaos. His wand was still in his right hand, and he began to use it as a drum stick, tapping out a steady rhythm on the desk as a guitar riff played in his head. He soon added his left pointer finger as a second drum stick and was instantly lost in his own little world, a wonderful melody forming itself in his mind. That's what he missed about the muggle world: the ease at which he had access to music. There were no record players manufactured in the last century present in the castle, no radios, and nowhere to buy records or radios. Roger adored Hogwarts, but he missed rock music so much it hurt.

“You probably shouldn’t do that,” John commented, but Roger ignored him as though he didn’t hear. Roger was used to people being annoyed at his fidgety antics, especially when he was making noise. Normally his peers would tell him to cut it out or make fun of him for his percussion habit, but this class was filled with so many sounds of magical mistakes and angry rodents and everyone’s focus was on their own work, so he continued to drum on the desk in peace. A song by the Beatles had started to show itself through his originally aimless rhythm and the recall of the band’s revolutionary art made him miss music even more.

“Mr. Taylor!” 

The shrill shout of his professor and head of house startled Roger and caused the skinny blond to jump nearly out of his seat. A bright flash burst from the tip of his wand, filling the room like that of an atom bomb and temporarily blinding everyone from its sheer brightness. Annoyed and startled gasps and whines filled the room as his classmates rubbed and blinked their eyes furiously to readjust them.

“Bloody hell!” James Potter shouted. 

“What the heck was that?” Peter Pettigrew whimpered. 

“Not cool, mate!” Remus Lupin scowled. 

He didn't know what had happened either. 

Professor McGonagall swooped down on the boy like a hawk on its prey, and he flinched away from her, squeezing his eyes shut tight. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!” He cried as he curled up in his seat, not even really knowing what he did. It was as though when he’d become frightened his wand had tried to protect him. Or maybe he’d done it without realizing? Either way he hadn’t meant it to happen and he was terrified of punishment.

Taken aback by Roger’s reaction, Professor McGonagall paused and seemed to reevaluate the situation as she watched the frightened, squirrelly boy before her. It was obvious to her that he was quite intelligent and mostly harmless. She’d heard the rumors flying about the lake incident from the first day back at school and she’d come to her own conclusion of which story was true. She believed he was a good child who just had a lot of energy and sometimes questionable judgement, and also knew he hadn’t done the magic on purpose, but she had to treat the situation for what had happened and not for his intentions. 

McGonagall snatched the wand from his hand and placed it firmly on the desk before him before crossing her arms, her lips pursed and a rather unimpressed look on her face as the boy relaxed slightly and peeked his azure eyes open at her. “Mr. Taylor, I believe you’ll find that wands are NOT to be played with as toys. Five points from Gryffindor.” 

Roger let out a breath of relief as the towering professor swept away from his desk back to the front of the room as his Gryffindor peers let out groans of disappointment. “Sorry, guys,” Roger sighed outwardly, but inside he was just genuinely relieved that five points taken was his only punishment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment and tell me what you think!  
> Kudos are much appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think! I take critisim-- in fact I would love to hear how I can improve!


End file.
